


viens loins à l'eau (come away to the water)

by orphan_account



Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [13]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Cold Water, Cold Weather, Dom Armie Hammer, Fluff and Smut, It's Freaking Cold Guys, M/M, Post-Coital Cuddling, Power Bottom, Skinny Dipping, Sub Timothée Chalamet, Water Sex, a little bit, kind of, you get it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Timmy and Armie go swimming.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087184
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	viens loins à l'eau (come away to the water)

“Is it okay for us to be here? So late at night, I mean?” Timothée frowned and looked out over the little beach, from what little light he could glean from the waning crescent moon. Copses of oak and elm trees lingered in the distance, the forest expanding infinitely beyond the shoreline.

Armie grinned, holding his red flannel button down shirt folded over his arm. “Technically, no. We’re supposed to make a reservation and pay a fee. Besides, it’s after hours. No one’s supposed to be here, but that means no one should bother us, either.”

He walked ahead of Timothée barefoot, leaving small footprints in the sand. Timothée laughed and took a deep breath, exhaling a burst of mist into the air. “Dude, it’s freezing out here! How the hell are you walking around shirtless and barefoot?”

“Well, I can come back here one day when it’s warm and comfortable. I can bring you with me. But until then, I brought you here because I was starting to feel claustrophobic in that tiny apartment, and until we get the pipes fixed, we can’t take a shower."

“No, but we could have gone to literally any hotel in Boston, or in the state of Massachusetts, for that matter, to take a hot shower. I’m starting to think that you spend most of your time while I’m in the city filming thinking up new ways to torture me.”

Armie looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Close. I actually spend most of my day watching mindless TV, but when I get bored and during commercials I press ‘mute’ and think about you while I masturbate. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to wash the sheets with heavy duty detergent.”

“Armie! Can you just, not?”

“Not what?” Armie winked and stuck his tongue out at Timothée as he shivered and pulled his shirt back on. “Jeez, it is pretty cold out here. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.”

“Can you please just try not to talk like a dirty old man?” Timothée groaned and pulled the drawstring of his hoodie to hide his face. “For all of your assurances, I can’t help sometimes but feel like I’m more like a trick than your lover. When you joke like that, you make me feel like a whore.”

Armie’s face fell. He walked back to Timothée and pulled back the hood of his jacket as he pressed their foreheads together. His lower lip stuck out in a pout. “Hey, Timmy, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel like that. You know I love you. ‘Dirty old man,’ huh? I’m only nine years older than you.” 

He leaned down to kiss him. “You’re right, though. It was a stupid idea to come out here, and if you want to, we’ll turn around right now, get back in the car, and go back to Boston."

“No! No, Armie, I’m the one who should be sorry. I mean, I am. Your life’s been complicated enough lately without having to worry about my...fragile mental state. Fuck it. You want to go skinny dipping? Let’s go. You only live once, after all.”

Before Armie could respond, Timothée tore off his hoodie and sweatshirt, and slipped out of his jeans, socks, and shoes. Clad only in his boxers, he whooped and ran across the sand and into the pond. Immediately on contact with the water, Timothée shrieked. “Come on in, Armie, the water’s fucking freezing! But get in here, man. Don’t be a pussy.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Armie chuckled, took off his shirt again, and neatly folded it and put it in a pile on top of Timothée’s clothes. He unbuttoned his belt and slid his chinos and briefs down his legs. Timothée’s jaw dropped. He stared at Armie as he waded into the water as if transfixed.

Timothée turned away to hide his face and compose himself. The image of Armie standing there in the moonlight, dripping with water and good looks, gave him such a powerful boner that he whimpered with pain. Timothée glanced up at Armie. He stood with the water up to his waist. 

Armie laughed faintly and smiled at him knowingly. “Timmy,” he said simply. His tone was tinged with affection and amusement. He reached out a finger and beckoned him forward.

When Timothée started toward him, Armie met him halfway, gathering him up in his arms.

Timothée shivered and pressed his face into the crook of his arm. When Armie reached under the water and ripped off his boxers his breath, already discordant, left him completely. He gasped and lifted his head.

“Put me down!” He hissed. He bared his teeth and bit Armie’s shoulder. His own boldness surprised him. He watched Armie flinch, the sudden burst of air as he exhaled. Timothée kissed his shoulder apologetically and held his breath.

The water splashed softly as Armie touched Timothée’s hair, pushing it back onto his neck. He massaged the top of Timothée’s head until his lips parted. He closed his eyes and moaned.

Armie swam around and behind Timothée, and kissed the side of his throat. He made a sound like a muffled growl. “Tim.” He was panting.

Timothée leaned back and floated in his hold. He lifted a hand to Armie’s jaw, and felt the rough growth of new beard on his cheek. He shifted in the water until Armie cradled him in his arms. 

Timothée let his hand drift down Armie’s chest. When he brushed his nipple, Armie jerked and tightened his hold on him. His cock slid over Timothée’s ass and pressed hard at his hole, exposed as Armie’s arms shook, and Timothée was brought lower.

Timothée gasped and held his arms. His member ached and swelled and tingled. He clung to Armie and rubbed himself gently against him. He reached up to clasp Armie’s neck and shoulders and let his head fall back. Armie groaned raggedly.

Before, he had thrust into Timothée almost violently. Timothée lay open now. He smirked tauntingly and reached up to lick Armie’s lips. Armie stood still. He closed his eyes and began to breathe hard and unevenly. He gently pushed against Timothée, asking for entry.

“Yes,” Timothée murmured. “Fuck me, Armie.”

Armie ran his tongue over Timothée’s lips as he let him slide down. “Call me by your name,” he whispered harshly. "And I'll do the same."

Timothée turned his head and closed his teeth on Armie’s shoulder. Cold water washed into his mouth as Armie pulled him down onto his hard cock, pain in exchange for his pleasure. He grabbed Timothée’s hips and went deep in one fierce thrust.

Timothée cried out and clenched his eyes shut. Armie filled him, dragging him against him. He shoved hard inside, his fingers spreading Timothée’s buttcheeks to bring him closer.

Timothée’s mouth opened in a groaning gasp. It hurt him, but a powerful surge of pleasure coursed up through him. He cried out and threw his head back, taking Armie’s thrusts, rocking against him repetitively. “Timothée. Timothée, Timothée, Timothée!”

“Armie!” Armie answered with a hoarse groan, driving into him, pain and pleasure, lust and love mixing in a noxious brew.

* * *

The smell of the pine-scented air freshener wafted around them as they rested in the backseat of the little black 2016 Honda Civic that Armie had rented for the drive. Armie wrapped his arms around Timothée as he shivered from the cold and the aftershocks of their activities. 

He held Armie’s hands, their fingers laced together. He wore Armie’s button down, but other than the chinos Armie wore, they had nothing except a thick black fleece throw blanket and their own body heat to stay warm as they waited for the car to heat up.

Timothée turned to press his cheek to Armie’s shoulder and traced his fingers over the vicious red and purple bite marks. _“Je suis désolé, mon trésor.”_

“It’s alright, Timmy. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I overdid it, again. I’m sorry, baby.”

Timothée whimpered and turned into his embrace, his hair cold and damp against Armie’s chest. 

Armie brushed his fingertips across Timothée’s cheek, outlining his lips and chin. He held him for a long time, until his legs began to go numb.

With a soft kiss to his neck, he opened the door and slid out from under Timothée. Outside he stopped for a moment and stared into the darkness of the pond. 

With a sated smile and a faint shake of his head, he closed the back door and got into the front seat.

“It’s getting late. We better hit the road if we want to be back by morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translation:  
>  _“Je suis désolé, mon trésor.”_ \-----> "I am sorry, my treasure."  
> \- I know that sounds pretty sappy and formal, but I'm getting kind of bored with all the _mon amour,_ etc. This is a phrase that some French people actually use, just not as often.
> 
> At this point, Armie is beginning to recognize and understand certain words that Timmy uses, like _désolé,_ etc.
> 
> The title for this one comes from the song of the same name by Glen Hansard and Maroon 5.


End file.
